Home again, home again

(((FYI.....I underwent major surgery on August 3rd....this is my first post surgical post)))

Ouch.

One word sums up the last 4 days. It really wasn’t as bad as I expected, but there were some moments it was all I had been terrified it would be. Getting outta bed, sitting down, getting up, trying to clear my throat, coughing…..(THE WORST!) and of course the host of bodily functions that you need to do in order to be sent home. I never figured I would meet so many grownups with advanced medical degrees who were so absorbed in how much you pee….go figure! I have so many vague memories, I wonder what I actually experienced and what I truly hallucinated. But everyone was wonderful, a great staff. Not that I want to ever go back, but if I do I hope I have the option of going there.

No good food experiences at all, of course, when I wanted to eat there was nothing note-worthy. When I was still doped up on the IV of Dilaudid I found oatmeal to be absolutely fascinating, incredible! The texture, the scent, the co-mingling of butter and brown sugar and the smooth and chewy kernels of oat! Wonderful!!! Hey, that’s the drugs talking!! But then, the next day when it was just me and the monster gas pains with the IV taken out, oatmeal once again became something pretty benign, especially since they forgot the brown sugar! As was toast, fruit, and anything else they tried to pass off as food. For their credit, they tried. It was probably better than most, but frankly, after the surgeon sliced a 6 inch gash through my belly, I would have turned up my nose at Prime Rib. Not really thinkin’ food here! My friends plied me with popcorn, licorice and chocolate, bless their hearts. Still, nothing. Not interested. There is a lot of food in my fridge from helpful family members, and when I eat it, no matter what it is, I taste love. The love of someone who took the time to make something just for us in our time of need. I don’t care what it is, it tastes like love and I eat it because I know I need it to get strong. Once I get around to feeling like my insides won’t fall out every time I stand up I think that food will hold it’s appeal to me again. Until then, I will wax on philosophic about life in recovery and what it’s like to be taken care of…..who knows, it could be the only time it happens! I need to enjoy it and take it for everything it’s worth.